


Distinctive Favoritism

by Angel_ite



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 17:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14218011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_ite/pseuds/Angel_ite
Summary: “I needed this," you rasp beneath him. He couldn't help but agree with you. He had also needed this, for a couple of weeks now. His students had never been so hopeless and you were one of the rare few who he enjoyed to have as company. But perhaps he enjoyed you a little too much.





	Distinctive Favoritism

Note: This is just a smutty one-shot with Professor!Jindosh @ The Academy of Natural Philosophy. Hope you guys are into BDSM.  
Fem!Reader, though if you’d like me to make a male!reader or gender-neutral!reader at some point, I’d love to!  
TW: NSFW. Like, seriously, so SO nsfw. Reader is a college/academy student, so 19-22 yo. Bondage, spanking, ect.  
\--  
The classrooms were set up like arenas—the students sat in risers above the pit wherein a single desk and a chalkboard leaned against the wall. Classes started every hour on the dot and ended fifteen minutes before the next started, giving students enough time to walk across the campus and filter into their next class.  
Professors could show up whenever they wanted to. Or not at all, if they chose. Students could get up and leave after a while, but feared to do so; some professors would show up thirty minutes late then give the entire semester’s worth of a lesson in that short span of time, so it was wise to just sit and wait.  
This wasn’t true for every professor, but it was definitely true for Dr. Jindosh.  
He was a lean young man of 36, silver had not yet graced his dark hair. He gave off an immediate air of superiority whenever he stepped into the room; his narrow eyes were sharp and easily stripped away someone’s defenses. One time, he had actually made a group of students cry all with one sentence. Those who were in the class refused to repeat his words in their retelling of the story—apparently, it was just too cruel to reiterate.  
All this and he was also the reason that the Academy used the phrase “weeding out”. He was their top professor as far as credentials and results went, but that was only because so many students dropped out entirely if they weren’t exceedingly above average.  
And oh, the way those students talked about him. The things they said! Most of them were true, of course, but they discredited him greatly. Was he a hard grader? Most certainly. You had been in his class for a semester and your grades for his engineering course were hanging by a very feeble thread. But he was merciful, despite what some say. If they were to go to his office hours like you did, they would get on his good side and he’d have given them a little slack. Was he cruel? Oh, yes! He said some of the meanest things to his students, things that made the room fall silent in shock. But he never spoke ill of a student that he saw was capable of improving. He spoke mild hurtful things even to you, but that was only when you weren’t giving a project your all.  
All this and he still had the highest percentage of advisees graduate with honors and go on to do extraordinary things. If Dr. Jindosh believed in you, then you were a prodigy in waiting.  
This being said, you weren’t exactly sure if he believed in you, or if he just liked the feeling of your hands down his trousers.  
You tend to tell yourself that it was the sex that made him so interested, but he would argue otherwise. Yes, oh yes, the sex was marvelous and your talent for pushing him over the edge was unmatched by any other—but he also greatly enjoyed conversations with you and the prospect of getting to see you in his office every morning and afternoon, even if it didn’t end with your head bobbing up and down on his lap.  
Today, as usual, Kirin is late for class. You must remind yourself to think of him as “Dr. Jindosh” or else you’re going to let it slip one day. It would be better, after all, to call him “Dr.” in the middle of sex than call him “Kirin” in the middle of class.  
Oh, you could just imagine his face.  
It wasn’t uncommon for professors to have flings with students. In fact, it was almost a day to day occurrence and everyone knew about it. But for Kirin, it would mean he would have to admit that he real human person with emotions and needs. He wasn’t prepared to let any of his colleagues see that side of him, let alone the students.  
He had some semblance of a reputation to uphold.  
This was alright with you, of course. You didn’t want others to think you were fucking Jindosh just to get a better grade. As if he’d do that, anyway; he’d rather fail you and have you retake the class again and again before it meant going easy on you. And it wasn’t as though you two had routine sexual encounters; his libido was almost always suppressed by his life’s work and his occupation. On occasion, either he would ask you to come to his office or you’d wait a month or so and approach him on your own. And the sex was always private.  
So, as the situation stood, you were sleeping with the professor and only the two of you knew.  
About twenty minutes after he was supposed to show up, Kirin Jindosh slides into the room, his long legs carrying him in three strides to the small desk and chalkboard. You sit on the front row, but he doesn’t look at you. In fact, he typically avoids it after The Incident.  
The room, which was previously bustling with irritated comments and groggy yawns, fell silent as Jindosh slammed a stack of graded work on the front desk and turned briskly to write on the board.  
“I’m just going to assume you’ve all brought your field research in today?” He asks, writing quickly and curtly on the board. The way he talks is slow and a tad condescending, like he doesn’t really want to be there and yet he wants full control.  
A student near the back quickly raises her hand before blurting out, “Excuse me, Dr. Jindosh, those reports weren’t supposed to be in before midnight tonight. You said we could slide them under your door, remember?”  
Several other students chimed in affirmations.  
Jindosh looks up without raising his head. You smile, but try to hide it. Ah, that look. You absolutely love that look. It means he’s about to unleash hell.  
“Oh? You took that to mean that you could wait until the last second, yes?” He straightens up and looks the student head-on, “Before me, on this table, sits everyone’s graded lab assessments from last week. I reviewed them the other night while in fairly high spirits—mind you—and I must say I’ve never felt so insulted.”  
The classroom was deadly still. Jindosh turned around and continued what he had been writing on the board—a list of names.  
“Halfway through the damned semester and I’m already receiving perfunctory, careless, and sloppy work. To be blunt, I only read the debriefing of each of your assessments. That was enough for me to see who had made any real attempt. To those of you who see your name on the board, please feel inclined to drop this course by the end of the week. And you there, who mentioned the due date for your field work? If you waited until the last second to do this assignment the same way you did for the assessments, then don’t bother turning it in at all. I’d love to hear you plead your case after your last class. If not, and if you have it ready, please come place it on the desk.”  
The students who had spoken up looked at each other with rage in their eyes. You were just waiting for one of them to make a comment, though you knew he wouldn’t approve of you intervening.  
Instead, you casually stand up, shuffle your papers together, and walk to his desk, calming placing the neat and organized research where he had asked for it to go. You and a couple other students placed your work on his desk, but you were the only one that caught his gaze as you walked back.  
“Now, if we’re finished here, let’s begin class.”  
The rest of the day seemed to drag by. Every other class was not nearly as interesting; they were just necessary for what you were trying to get a title in. In your final class of the day, you sat in the back and worked on more blueprints for an upcoming engineering project that would be due in two months. In five minutes, the class would end and you would be free to go to his office.  
It was getting a little unhealthy, really. You were starting to fall for him. It was subtle, at first, mostly just because of the sexual attachment. But, eventually, his horrible attitude and terrible personality won you over. All jokes aside, you were a little fearful about what this all would amount to after you graduated. You’d never see him again or, at least, not nearly as much. He’d probably pick up some other student who caught his attention. The thought shouldn’t bother you, but it does.  
After class, you hurriedly make you way to his office on the sixth floor of the building. The stairs are long and spindly, but you eventually make it to the top, clutching your blueprints like they will re-energize you. You pass several professors on your way down the corridor, their faces adorned with silver beards and wrinkles. Really, there was no wonder why you were sleeping with Jindosh—he was the youngest acting professor currently. He was a god-send.  
Two knocks on the wooden door usually signaled that it was you. “Come in,” you heard him say. Expertly, you open the door just a bit, sliding through as you’ve done a dozen times now. There’s a smile on your face as you turn around to close the door.  
Your back to him, you say, “I was hoping to sneak in a quick session with you before I have to return home—” You turn around to see the student from before sitting in your—no, no, it doesn’t belong to you. Stop that—spot on his sofa.  
“Ah, I wasn’t expecting you. Do you mind waiting while I finish here with Miss Maxfield?”  
Kirin himself is seated comfortably behind his desk, both feet up on the wooden surface. His overall demeanor gives nothing away, even though what you just said could be interpreted in many different ways. You do notice the twitch of his eyebrow as he stares you down. Even despite the jarring nature of the situation, you felt your body heat up at the very sight of him.  
“Of course, I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll just go wait out in the hall.”  
Without another word, you excuse yourself and exit the office. Back in the hallway, you slam yourself against the opposite wall and mentally curse yourself for not being more careful. In truth, though, your sentence was innocent when it was left standing. “A quick session” meant absolutely nothing when it was taken out of context.  
Still, you began to fret the longer he kept you in the hall. Eventually, Maxfield exited the office.  
You were silent, a little nervous of meeting her gaze, but she says to you, “What an ass. He won’t give me an extension. Good luck getting anything out of him today, he’s being extra vindictive.”  
“I’ll . . . keep that in mind.” You stammer, flashing her a thin smile. After she had disappeared down the stair case, you swiftly reentered the office, closing the door behind you quietly.  
Jindosh is still propped up on his desk, but his hand was at his face, massaging the bridge of his nose. “A quick session?” he echoes, his voice low and unamused, “How subtle. You’re lucky she’s got less sense than a damned hagfish. Really, you ought to be more careful or else we’re going to have to stop this altogether.”  
He sighs as you take your seat on his sofa. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think she’d actually come and talk to you. Hardly anyone ever does, you know. You’re too frightening.”  
“I’m just frightening enough, actually.” He’s unwinding now, his hand moving from the bridge of his nose to cup his cheek in thought. You take this moment to look at him—he’s wearing the jacket you like so much, the brown one with the elbow-pads. Under it is the burgundy vest that you think fits him very fondly. It’s buttons are copper and really bring out his skin tones. Then he’s wearing the cream-colored button-up under that. You know you left a lipstick stain near the bottom of that one; how did that get there?  
His trousers are dark gray, almost black, and his shoes are the same old worn leather ones. His hair looks a little messy, likely because he’s been running his hands through it too often today. It’s so soft to play with, you can’t really blame him.  
“You can’t be too frightening,” you say eventually, “Some of your students actually like you.”  
He says nothing, but his eyes slide to you. After a second, the corners of his mouth turn up and he says to you, “I must be doing something wrong, then.”  
“Oh, no, don’t worry. The majority still hates you.” You shift in your seat and he definitely takes notice of the way your thighs rub together.  
“If they tried a little harder, maybe I wouldn’t give them reason to hate me,” he muses, still subconsciously staring at your body, not your face. You don’t mind.  
“Alright, how hard do I have to try?”  
He laughs briskly and removes his feet from the corner of his desk. “We’ve been through this. If you apply yourself—,”  
“Kirin,” you say, your voice changing. He stops, a little taken aback. Ah, he’s missed the meaning behind your words.  
“. . . It’s not even closing hours yet. Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking about this all day?”  
“I told you, just a quick session.”  
His lips press into a thin line. If you had to guess, you’d say he was trying to decide between the risk of his coworkers hearing him and the prospect of getting to be inside of you.  
It didn’t take long for there to be a resolution.  
As quick as ever, he picks himself up off the chair and strides to the door, flicking the dead lock with one elegant turn of his wrist. With the other hand, he dug his set of keys out of his pocket and locked the doorknob as well.  
“Really, we need to find somewhere else to do this,” he contemplates as he’s tossing the key ring back onto his desk. “This is all very risqué and I’m sure you find it exhilarating, but I’d like to have a bed—every now and again.”  
“Then take me home with you, sometime,” you joke, standing to meet him as he sits on the edge of his desk. His long legs are apart and you nestle your way between his knees.  
He scoffs at you, “I’m sure that would spark a very interesting series of rumors, indeed.”  
“You’re paranoid.” You place both of your small hands on his thighs, close to his groin, and massage gently.  
Jindosh takes a deep breath, holds it, then releases it when he’s ready to say, “I can’t have them saying that I favor you when I’m grading.”  
“Oh, I wish,” you smirk, rising up on your tip-toes to give him a kiss. He’s always a very slow kisser at the beginning. He lets you guide him from soft presses to quick and deep touches. His hands grip your hips and pull you forward so that you’re pressed against his mid-section. You don’t even realize that your hands have moved to the back of his neck, playing with the soft tufts of hair that have come out of their slicked-back shape. You can’t wait to make him look a-mess.  
When you back away from him, you take pride in the glazed look he has in his eyes and his slightly bruised lips. He’s always so in-control of the situation until it comes to things like these. “What do you want me to take off first?” you ask him softly.  
He doesn’t answer with words; his eyes are locked onto your own as he carefully tugs at your blouse again. You get the idea and begin to reach down and take it off when he changes his mind and lightly slaps your hands away. A little dumb-struck, you retreat your hands back to your sides and watch as he works. Very elegantly, he pulls your blouse up until it’s no longer tucked into your trousers, then he reaches up and begins to unbutton the little silver pieces that are holding it together. You feel like you should be holding your breath.  
His fingers are long and slender, calloused from years of working with intricate parts. They drag intentionally across your breasts, pretending to be accidental. But this man never does anything without intention.  
“My, my,” he remarks after pulling the fabric back, exposing your neck and breasts. You hadn’t worn a brassiere today out of giddy excitement, just to see his face. His eyes darken and he visibly begins breathing slower, taking in the sight before leaning forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your bare collarbone. You let out a content sigh, unaware that he’d moved to take one of your sensitive nipples between two fingers.  
You attempted to stifle a yelp as he squeezed hard, reveling in your muffled torment. His thumb flicks back and forth over the delicate bud before he gives your breast a light squeeze. “I’ve been neglecting you recently,” he sighs, “and I’m sure that must be quite frustrating. But you’ve always been such a diligent student, such a good girl, that it’s never necessary to call you into my office. Well. You must forgive me.” He pulls away, taking your chin between his fingers. “I must learn to reward good behavior.”  
Everything happened so quickly after that.  
In no time at all, he had you face down on his desk, your arse perked in the air. Your hands were bound behind your back with your blouse and your trousers were in a heap at your feet. Kirin had taken off his jacket and waistcoat and had unbuttoned the top part of his shirt. His trousers were already tight, so he took off his belt and folded it in half neatly.  
You sucked in your breath as you felt the cold leather run along your rear. You hoped he didn’t see you shiver.  
“Would you to prove how good of a student you are?” He asks, his tone familiar to you. It’s the one he used during class.  
Your lips curled in a smile.  
“How about a quick quiz, hm? And if you get all my questions right, I’ll give you want you’ve come here for. And if not—,” The belt came down on the soft skin of your bottom. You stifle a sound.  
Isn’t he worried about getting caught? Or did he simply want to force you to keep quiet? Either way, he positions himself behind you, giving your arse a tight squeeze. Then, he began.  
“What does one call a metal comprised of two or more metallic elements?” he asks, his voice perfectly calm. Jindosh runs a heavy hand up your spine, dipping to the side to grab your breast.  
You don’t even have to think. “An alloy,” you answer confidently.  
He chuckles under his breath, “Good. Though that was an easy one. Oh well, I suppose I’ll have to try harder.”  
His hand slid from your breast to between your legs. You held your breath as his long fingers began to stroke in circles around your most sensitive spot. He was quite good at this part, though you personally preferred his face between your legs.  
“Next,” he whispers against your ear, “A process involving change wherein entropy does not increase or decrease is called . . . ?”  
You pause for a moment, too engrossed with what his hands are doing. Already you were incredibly slick and he could easily access deeper parts of you if he so desired. But when you don’t respond, his movements down below hesitate. A whimper comes out of you before you say, “Isentropic process. You can do better than that, Dr. Jindosh.”  
He must admit that this is oddly very arousing to him. Not the foreplay or the sex, but the fruits of his labor as a professor and his hunger for an equal opponent. Well, the sex was quite good too he had to admit.  
Jindosh slips a finger inside of you, craning at an angle to hit the spot he had long ago committed to memory. You writhe below him, moving your hips to adjust the pressure. He smirks to himself and allows another finger to ease into you. Then another. You really had been waiting for this all day, hadn’t you? Such a thing filled him with an immense amount of pride.  
At last, Kirin wracked expansive brain for a final question. He ultimately decided on, “What cast iron has nodular of spheroidal graphite?”  
“Soft iron,” you answer quickly, pushing yourself back against his fingers. You’re stunned when he pulls away and a sharp sting shocks your skin.  
“Incorrect,” he says, disappointment in his words. You feel your legs trembling from the mix of stimulations. “Ductile iron was the correct answer.”  
You glance over your shoulder at him, your lips a tad pouty even for your age. “We just learned that today! I’ve not had a chance to study it yet—!” you yelp as the sting of the belt returns again, this time only adding to your excitement. The pain was gone and in its place, you were dizzy with need.  
“Tsk, tsk,” he reprimands. “I’m afraid you failed. But, since you’re such a diligent student, perhaps you still have time to save your grade. I’m being gracious, of course. Don’t tell anyone I favor you.”  
You lift yourself off the desk and turn to face him, smirking before you drop down to your knees in front of him. As your back settled against the cool wood of the desk and he took a small step forward to encourage you, you replied, “As though that’s not already obvious.”  
He begins to relax a little more as he feels your expert hands unbutton his trousers and shimmy them down from his thin waist. He’s grown accustomed to this particular practice. It was quite thrilling to have your lips around his cock, knowing that it was entirely unprofessional. Then again, Sokolov would have several public ongoing flings with students and other faculty members throughout a semester—so what could this hurt?  
His thoughts began to fade away as your touch finally found his obvious erection. He didn’t boast about it, nor was he self-conscious, but something about the way your eyes glaze over whenever you’re in front of his cock always set him ablaze.  
You grip the base of his member and bring the tip to your soft lips, giving it a small kiss before you slowly take the head into your mouth. He lets out a sigh that had been repressed all day—the stress of work melting away against your lips. You began a simple pattern of in and out while you stroked in rhythm. Soon, you could hear the familiar grunts as your engineering professor attempted to suppress his moans. You know what he likes best, so you begin to twirl your tongue as you go, pleased by the way his hips buck inward and push you harder against the desk. At this point, his hands come down to gently cup your cheeks, signaling that he would be taking over from here. You let your hands fall to your lap as he lovingly strokes back your hair and thrusts in and out of your mouth. Jindosh would occasionally prefer to shove himself in nearly to the base—with approval—because he liked the sounds you made beneath him. But today, he didn’t want to risk finishing too early, so he pulls back just as he feels his mind begin to swim.  
He takes a moment to look down at you to see if you are all right and nearly swoons at the wanton, mystified look on your flushed face. Your lips glisten; he reaches down and lightly rubs his thumb against your bottom lip, enjoying the way your lean into his touch. He lets out a sigh that trembles a bit before crouching down to your eye-level.  
“I wasn’t going to fuck you while my coworkers were still in the building, but if you can be quiet—,”  
You boldly lean in to kiss him into silence, your lips forceful against his, your tongue slipping into his mouth before he had the chance to prepare. Jindosh lets out a groan and presses you harder against the wall of the desk, his hands cupping your face while your own slithered down to gently stroke him.  
“I’ll be quiet,” you promised, turning your face to softly kiss his cheek. He rests his head on your shoulder and breathes steadily as you continue to touch him. “But will you?”  
Kirin chuckles to himself and leans back to look at you. Where should he have you? On the couch like the time before? Against the door again? Or perhaps against the window, since risk of being caught seemed to be fueling the sexual tension? He places both hands on the smooth, red wood of his desk to pull himself up when he finally decides.  
Kirin was a man who lived in a sort of organized clutter. He would leave tools and spare parts lying around, but he valued his workspace to be untouched by anyone but himself. Today, however, he would make an acceptation.  
He helps you to your feet before gliding past you toward his desk. You watched as he collected the pile of ungraded field research, small tools, and miniature engine parts, setting them aside until he had a clear surface.  
“Here?” you asked, your face flushing a bit.  
“Yes, here,” he extends a hand for you to take. You let him guide you to the other side and gracefully lift you up onto the edge of the desk. He pushes you down until you’re lying on your back, then slips a hand between your knees, guiding your thighs apart. The cool air on your sex was enough to send you quivering, and then he attributed to the mood by running the tips of his fingers down your inner thighs. Kirin makes eye contact with you just as he lines up two digits to your slick entrance. There’s an unspoken approval before he pushes inside, earning a pleased mewl from you. His fingers were long and nimble and had excellent muscle memory. He was able to reach your most sensitive spot in an instant without so much as a blink. As he plays with you, he has this look in his eyes; he so enjoyed watching tests subjects squirm and reveled in the reactions he could get out of specimens. You were no different here, writhing and jolting with each stroke. He picked up the pace, leaning over your body until he was practically hovering above you. His free hand ran through your hair, then grabbed a fistful of it to steady you from squirming around. For just a moment longer, he studied the way your eyes fell back in your head after a particularly good touch, then he moved into the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of bruising kisses. He delighted in the thought of someone seeing his marks upon your skin.  
You were getting close to an orgasm—you always grew quiet the better it felt as you were too preoccupied with the sensation to register anything else. He didn’t want to push you too far, so he pulled out his fingers, brought them to his face, and observed his handiwork with amusement. “Has it really been that long, my dear?” he asked, amazed by how aroused you had gotten in such a short period of time. Really, he couldn’t judge; he was pressing hard against your thigh, twitching with every gasp you had made.  
“Too long,” you rasp, “I needed this.”  
He agreed. He had also needed this, for a couple of weeks now. His students had never been so hopeless and you were one of the rare few who he enjoyed to have as company.  
But perhaps he enjoyed you a little too much.  
“Turn over,” he said. You gave him a surprised look; sure, you’d had sex in odd spots around his office, but he’d never asked you to not face him. Part of you grew even more excited at the prospects of something new. As commanded, you lifted yourself from the desk and turned around, bending over as you had been before. But this time, there was no rough foreplay or hesitation. You felt the tip of his cock slide up and down between your wet entrance before Kirin eased himself inside of you, smooth as silk. The size of him fills you to the brim, forcing a moan out of you as your walls adjust to his cock once again. It felt different in this position—you quite liked it. He pulled back just as the initial pain had started to subside, then pushed himself all the way back with force and power. This time, he put both of his hands on either side of you, bent down, and whispered in your ear, “Hold on to something.”  
Your hands grip the corner of the desk tightly as he snakes a hand down between your legs, finding you’re the sensitive spot hidden in your heat. You jolt as his fingers rub circles around the little bud, your knees shaking as he stimulates you. Before you have the time to process what he’s doing, Kirin begins to thrust fast and hard into you. The desk rattles with each powerful hit, rattling the equipment inside and causing the wood to creak. You must restrain the noises you want to make as he gently touches you and simultaneously fucks the life out of you. His slender form is perfect for this position; he’s able to angle himself over you and whisper terrible, dirty things into your ear while still plowing into you as hard and fast as he pleased. And, oh, did he take pleasure in this. You feel yourself slipping; you can’t remain quiet when he’s so violently daring you to orgasm. When you two did this in his office after hours, you could be as loud as you wanted. But this was different. You grit your teeth, as you feel him shift angles, shoving himself so deep inside that it nudged the desk forward a couple of inches. You couldn’t restrain your noises any longer, and he was beginning to realize that with how quickly you were breathing and the sheer volume of your whines.  
A large hand came up and cupped your mouth, allowing you to moan into it without making too much noise. Kirin himself was already drawing close to an orgasm, though he would see this through to the end. Your hot breath against his palms, the way your nipples brushed against his work desk, and the fact that you were on the tips of your toes, arching into every thrust—it all pushed him closer and closer.  
You were so, so tight around him at this angle. He looks down and sees your skin slap against his hips and he feels a surge of energy, speeding up and using the full brunt of his sheer force. Your gasps were more akin to grunts of jolting ecstasy as he managed to finally throw you into a climax, legs trembling uncontrollably, your body convulsing, squeezing tight around his cock that hadn’t stopped destroying you yet. When at last the wave resided, you felt like your limbs were made of rubber. Jindosh continued to ravish you for a moment longer before he let out a low, primal groan of approval—emptying himself inside of you before nearly collapsing above your weak form. You felt him slowly pull out, then felt something warm drip down your thigh. Kirin began to collect your clothes for you, a curtesy for having made such a mess of you.  
As you attempted to lift yourself off of the desk—in vain of course—he set your clothes beside you in a neat pile. He had already pulled up his trousers and put on his undershirt, though he had yet to button it. Your professor sat on the corner of the desk, next to you, and took a long draw from his ceramic pipe. As smoke filled the air, he extended his other hand lightly brushed hair out of your face. At last, you found your strength and managed to stand, putting your weight on the edge of the desk so as to sit by his side.  
It is quiet for a moment before he offers you a drag of his ceramic pipe. The tobacco leaves smell distinctly like him and the aroma fills your lungs as you accept his offering, the two of you basking in comfortable silence.  
The small office is warm due to the lovemaking and the afternoon light pouring in from the far window. Ultimately, you decide to redress yourself. Jindosh watches you, marveling at the sight for a brief period.  
“You know,” he says, casting his gaze to the stack of field research he had set aside, “I read over your field research. Flawless. I’ve never given a perfect score before, but there might have to be a first time for everything.”  
You pause in the middle of buttoning your blouse to crack a wide smile, your heart full of pride. “Will you gloat about me in class?”  
“No.”  
“Oh please? At least tell them all that I got a perfect score while you’re demolishing the rest of them.”  
“Absolutely not,” he nearly rolls his eyes.  
You pout lightly, smoothening your uniform down, “I thought I was your favorite.”  
“You are.” He admits. Your eyes flicker up to look at him, caught aback by his honestly. “And that’s exactly why I won’t boast over you. I can’t have it become obvious to them.”  
He takes another long draw of his pipe, acutely aware of how you are moving toward him. As he turns his head to release the smoke into the atmosphere of the office, you place a sweet kiss on his stubbly cheek. The action fills him with warmth.  
“I can live with that,” you smile, noticing the faintest blush on his cheeks, “It was enough to hear you say it.”


End file.
